


Angoscia

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Ghost!Abigail, Gore, Horror, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Plastic Kill Suits, Violence, dark!Will, jealous!Hannibal, limb amputation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22571347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Angst is not the human condition, it's the purgatory between what we have and what we want but can't get."- Miguel SyjucoA collection of my angsty one-shots and drabbles.
Relationships: Will Graham/Abigail Hobbs/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 55





	1. Gone

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble was inspired by the prompt 'an old secret, a barking dog, a bundle of cash' from @typinggently's prompt list. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Will slammed his fist against the drywall next to Hannibal's head, unleashing a strangled cry as his skin tore and his knuckles fractured. 

"You told me Molly and Walter would be safe from you, Hannibal!"

There was betrayal in Will's eyes- disgust, devastation and hot anger on full display. 

How long Will had known about his little indiscretion, Hannibal couldn't say, but if the envelope of money he'd found was any indication, Will had known for some time. Scrupulously saving and penny pinching for his inevitable departure. 

"You've been planning your escape," Hannibal sneered, desperation edging into his voice. Will gave him a sardonic smirk, "There's no coming back from this, you know that." He reached for the envelope with his good hand, pulling it out from between Hannibal's enclosed fist, and slid it into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Their foreheads were nearly touching, noses inches apart, Hannibal could smell the salt of Will's tears, the sweat on his skin. He hated him in this moment, wanted nothing more than to rip him apart. Flay him open and eat his innards raw.

"I did it for us," Hannibal seethed, anger and incredulity colouring his words.

"No," Will whispered softly, "you did it for you."

They stood there in tension laden silence, the clock on the wall marking the minutes as they passed by. A dog barked shrilly somewhere off in the distance, the low hum of the city traffic barely audible over the staccato of Hannibal's racing heart.

This was it, their inevitable end, and Hannibal could hear the teacup shattering, the rooms they shared in his mind palace falling in on themselves. Broken and irreparable.

Will moved slowly then, his right hand hanging limply at his side, and grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter. The patio door banging against its frame as it slammed shut behind him.

It only took a moment for the cars engine to roar to life, the familiar sound of gravel crunching and cracking as Will reversed down the driveway- and just like that, he was gone.

For good this time.


	2. First Kill

Will was a man gone mad.

He had plunged the knife into the pliant body beneath him so many times and with such fervour that the corpse no longer resembled a person at all.

It's face was a mar of gaping, leaking wounds and ugly purpling bruises. The flesh of what used to be it's cheeks hanging by the thinnest of tendrils on broken and shattered bone. It's mouth a cavern of splintered teeth and mutilated gums. Where there were once bright, alert eyes were now bloody, gaping black holes staring up into nothingness.

Will relented, sitting back on his heels to admire the brutality of his design.

 _It was beautiful_.


	3. Some Place I Can Never Go

Will goes to visit Abigail's grave on an overcast autumn afternoon. No one has been here since her burial, the tombstone is badly weathered and covered in loose leaves and dirt. He wipes the accumulated grime away revealing the placard that holds her photograph. She looked lovely when she was alive. He places a neatly wrapped box of fly tying gear he bought but never gave to her at its base.

This is his sacred place, a place of reverence and a place for remembering.

Hannibal sits in the car and watches him through the open window. Will can feel his eyes on him. 

_"This is one of those places, Will. Another place he can never go."_

Will smiles sadly, glancing over at the spectre of Abigail. She looks the same as the last time he saw her. Auburn hair tied back from her face, ruddy red cheeks contrasting her pale skin. Her throat is freshly slit and smatterings of blood stain the front of her khaki coat.

He nods his agreement and reaches for her hand, he grasps nothing but the cool October air. 


	4. Tremble

Will traces his fingers along the scars on Hannibal's wrists and smiles at the memory it evokes. Too bad it wasn't him who inflicted them. 

The tremble in Hannibal's hands is unmistakable. 


	5. Amputation

She's been sedated, but that doesn't make what Will's doing any easier. She's moving against her restraints, twisting and pulling in her unconscious state, making the amputation messier than he intended. Hannibal holds her down by her shoulders, pressing her into the hard metal of the operating table. The saw slips against bone, metal teeth ripping through delicate flesh, muscle and sinew. 

Bedelia's foot twitches.


	6. Mirror

Will's been standing at the bathroom sink for hours, eyes trained on his reflection. He would never have considered himself a vain man, but the blow to his ego is irreparable. 

He can't stand the sight of himself, half of his face maimed by Dolarhyde's knife and the other disfigured from cracking his jaw against a jut of rock when they'd fallen from the cliff side. He's unrecognisable now, ugly and decrepit, a shadow of the man he used to be. 

He punches the mirror and it shatters.


	7. Stitches

Hannibal removes the stitches on Will's forearm with care, gently coaxing the thread free and discarding it into the metal tray on the table. The injuries they sustained in their fall from the cliff nothing more than fleeting memories now. Hannibal smiles imperceptibly, caressing the leathery scar tissue with reverence, and presses a tender kiss to the inside of Will's wrist.


	8. Plastic

The room is stark white, clinical and blinding in its sterility. Every inch covered in a thin, clear layer of cellophane. _Hannibal and his fucking preventative measures_ , Will thinks as he pulls up the collar on his plastic kill suit, he's never felt so uncomfortable. 

"Don't look so aggrieved, Will." Hannibal's standing off to the side, looming over the man they'd captured and strapped to the medical examination table. He's gagged, unable to move or speak, but his eyes are talking all on their own. _Help me! Why won't you help me!?_

Will turns away, he hasn't quite gotten used to this. He's not so sure he ever will. 

"No need to be afraid," Hannibal coo's softly, sliding a gloved hand through the man's hair. "It'll all be over soon."


	9. Picture Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:
> 
> This chapter includes references to rape and non-con.

The first thrust is excruciating, searing white hot pain radiating up the curve of Will's spine. _Why is this happening?_ Hannibal's hands feel like vices on his hips, kneading the delicate flesh there with unyielding fervour. Hannibal's excitement is thick and palpable -- visceral, like a dense fog hanging in the air.

Will can almost taste it. 

It hurts him, it hurts him in the way that old wounds never could. It isn't the physical brutality of the act itself, or the demoralising aftermath, but the sheer humiliation of forced submission. 

Emasculation and the death of his soul. 

_Why am I allowing this?_

He doesn't resist, choosing instead to recede inside of himself. There's safety there, derealization and depersonalisation his oldest friends.

Will can feel the first trickles of blood trailing down his inner thighs as Hannibal presses himself fully into the wet heat of his unyielding flesh. "You don't know how long I've wanted this, Will."

Hannibal sounds almost euphoric, panting heavily from exertion. He presses a feather light kiss to the nape of Will's neck.

A consolation. _Forgive me my trespasses._

Will says nothing in response, lying laxly against the rumpled bedsheets, eyes trained on the large picture window set into the wall on the opposite side of the room.

An autumn wind is blowing and it rustles through the trees. Will watches as their leaves fall. 


End file.
